


Of Men and Madness

by allistor_kirkland



Category: Sherlock (TV), Supernatural, Sword Art Online, 未来日記 | Mirai Nikki | Future Diary
Genre: Alternate Reality, Angel Wings, Coma, F/M, Immortality, Insanity, M/M, Magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-14
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-02-17 08:26:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 11,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2303105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allistor_kirkland/pseuds/allistor_kirkland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The true story of Sherlock and Kirito's lives, and how we found ourselves trapped in another reality, struggling to get back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Someone Else’s Appendicitis Changes My LIfe

I feared I was losing my mind. When you’re little, people tell you that the world is a certain way, and that if you ever see or believe anything different, you’re insane. I had never quite bought that myself, but still, I mostly accepted established reality as being… well, real. But then came that late summer afternoon, and everything changed. 

I owe a lot to my friend’s bum appendix. Not many people can say that they owe their life to someone else’s appendicitis, but I am one of the few who can. Our story begins with… you guessed it; my friend getting appendicitis. On September 17th, 2013, Luis Loan, a long time friend of mine, went home early from school because he wasn't feeling well, and by around five in the afternoon that same day, he was under the knife. He had that really fast acting kind of appendicitis that could kill you in less than a day if it went untreated. Luckily, he decided to have his parents take him to the hospital, and he survived. 

The story really begins when I heard about it. I was in the car with my mom, when Luis’s mom called us to let us know that he was about to go into surgery. I was appropriately worried about him, and was thinking idly about what would happen if something went wrong, and I’d have to go and visit him in the hospital. I was imagining him asleep in a hospital bed, when my life changed forever. I had what could really only be described as a vision; suddenly, I wasn't imagining looking down at a friend lying comatose in a hospital bed, all of a sudden, I was in the hospital bed. 

My mind reeled in confusion. 'Where’s mom? What happened to the car?' I frantically through to myself, 'Where am I? And who’s that?' I realized with a jolt that there was a girl sitting at my bedside, holding my hand and crying. Even through her puffy, red eyes and the tear stains all along her cheeks, she was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. Somewhere in her late teens to early twenties, her build was elegant and thin, like a finely crafted rapier, made to bend, but never brake. She had long straight orange hair and beautiful golden eyes; eyes I would come to call the color of the sun. 

I tried to speak to her, to sit up, but no luck; my body remained firmly rooted to the papery hospital linens. I could see her shoulders softly shake as she cried, and her mouth pull taught with grief every so often, but I couldn't really hear her; it was as if my head was underwater and she was crying just above the surface. I tried once again to speak to the young woman, to move the hand she grasped tight, almost painfully tight, in both of hers, but my body simply wouldn't respond. It was at that moment that the truth of the situation hit me; I was in a coma. 

My mind reeled at this sudden and unbidden revelation. Does that mean that my entire life has simply been a dream? But if I’m awake, why can’t I move? And who is this girl? Who am I, for that matter? Then, yet another sudden revelation hit me: I had seen that girl before; many times in fact. She was the female lead in one of my favorite anime, Sword Art Online. Her name was Asuna. 'But if Asuna is sitting at my bedside and crying, then does that mean that I'm the main character… Kirito?'

And then, just as abruptly as it had begun, it was over, and I was sitting back in the car with my mom, only a minute further down the road than when I had left. My mom looked over to me, with an obvious look of, ‘Are you ok?’ I gestured to her that I was fine, and proceeded to close my eyes, to give my mind a rest. But when I closed my eyes, I only found myself back in the hospital room with Asuna. I opened my eyes again experimentally, and sure enough, I was back in the car. I tried this several times, each time with the same result.

Perhaps I’ve somewhat misrepresented my experience. The first minute I was really in the hospital room, but after that, and even to this day, I’ve never really been able to go back. Rather, I see in my mind’s eye, hear in my mind’s ear, feel with my mind’s body, and so on; It’s a bit like remembering something; when you revisit the memory, you can still feel what you felt and see what you saw, but with a kind of ghost like quality. I always assumed that this is how everyone remembered things, but my mentor says that it’s unique. According to him, I have genuine second sight. But I’m getting WAY ahead of myself.

At first I wasn't quite sure what to think or believe. 'Did I just imagine that?' 'Is this just a fanboy crush gone WAY too far?' 'Have I finally gone completely off the deep end?' I really didn't know. 

Right! Where are my manors? Introductions! My name is Nicolas Shaver. Yes, it’s spelled without an “h.” In this life, I’m 16 years old (though I was 15 at this point in the story), and I live in Santa Fe, New Mexico . My major skill is singing, mostly operatic and Broadway stuff, I’m also good at acting, and have been told that I can write well, though I’m not convinced. My hobbies include anime and video games, I’m also seriously into Steampunk, and dress accordingly every day (I am proud to say I do not own a single t-shirt) and I have a serious obsession with Zeppelins. The lighter-than-air craft kind of Zeppelin, not Led Zeppelin, though I do like the band. My two major goals in life are as follows: firstly, to sing and act on Broadway, I particularly want to play the Phantom in Phantom of the Opera, and secondly, to revive Zeppelins as a form of transportation, and to show the world that Zeppelins are not useless, that they are not dangerous, and that they have a place in the modern world. So that’s me. Now, on with the story.

After that point, I’m not exactly sure what happened; it was all a bit of a blur for me. But at the end of that blur, I found that I was not alone in this situation. Obviously, I did not go shouting this discovery to the high heavens, and only told a few very close friends, some of whom I would be glad I told, and others I would regret telling. In the end, I told ten people. At some point toward the beginning, I told my close friend, Laura Williams, and she in turn, had a vision of her own. It turned out that she was Sherlock Holmes; not the Conan Doyle version, but the BBC Steven Moffat version. He had been in a coma for a year and a half, and only began to wake up when Laura had her vision.

So there you have it, the two major players in this drama, that my life is becoming, have been revealed. We are playing a bit of catch-up, since on this coming Wednesday, it will have been exactly one year since the events of the previous pages took place. Even so, we will try to update every week, much like John’s blog, except not… at all. You know what? Forget the comparison to John’s blog. This is just a fan-fiction from two madmen retelling our story to the world as best we can. Who knows? Maybe Swordlock Online will become a thing? In any event, I’ll be sharing the narrative with my dear friend Mr. Holmes, and so I end the first chapter, and pass the torch to him.


	2. I Believed Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laura realises her mistakes in not believing her friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to a big ol' cluster f***k of this, that, and the other thing.

A fictional character?   
What?   
I’m not sure how to react. He’s probably just messing with me. Still, he is my best friend; I’ll just humor him ‘till he comes around.   
“Hey,” I said jokingly, “maybe I’m Sherlock Holmes.”  
I meant it as a joke, I really did… Didn’t I?   
Didn’t I?!?   
I decided to ignore it. Maybe in due time we’ll just forget about all of this. But the thought never left me. Of all the fictional characters to chose, why Sherlock Holmes? He’s nothing like me. Maybe it was just the result of binge watching the show in one week. Sherlock Holmes and I have very little in common. I mean, sure, we both have a mind palace, and we both are addicted to murder mysteries, and I tend to get pretty sociopathic, and we both like long coats, and I only get clingy to like one or two people and hate just about everyone else, and… Ohhh…   
Nah! It couldn’t be! No… No! Noooooooo…   
I continue to think about it and after about twenty minutes I decide it’s stupid, “No, no. Once you’ve eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth…” Shit! Now I’m quoting him.  
Over the next few days I push it to the back of my mind, school and all. I do homework, keep pushing it back. Get distracted by Doctor Who, keep pushing it back. Until, one night at around two in the morning, I heard a voice. I was asleep, so… a dream? The tone of urgency in the voice made me sit up straight in bed. I, of course, check my room, and, being an only child, I find nothing. The door is slightly open so the cat can get in and out, but she doesn’t make much noise. And I’m certain that was a voice. Having convinced myself it was only a dream, I lay back down. I was starting to doze off, when I heard the voice again. This time I can hear it more clearly, “Please, Sherlock, wake up.”   
Once again, I sit upright. I need to stop watching that show for a while. I put on headphones and lay down again. This time, I don’t hear the voice. For some reason, I don’t tell anyone about it. People already think I’m crazy, why give them more reason to think so.  
It never left my mind, and I often found myself thinking about it during my daily life.   
Obnoxious? Yes.  
Highly cliche? Totally.  
Eventually, I decided to see what would happen if I just let the voice talk to me. That night, I lay in bed, just lay there, and I was sucked into the world that, beyond a shadow of a doubt, threw everything I had ever believed into a giant, towering inferno.

When I opened my eyes, I wasn’t in my room. Instead, much like Nicholas, I was in a hospital bed. There were some key differences, the main being a clearly distraught John H. Watson holding his head and crying. I was shocked, really truly shocked. It was a dream, it had to be. But, unlike all the dreams I’ve ever had, I couldn’t control that one.   
“Please, Sherlock, please.”  
More than anything, I wanted to reach out to him. Wanted to comfort him. I couldn’t. I couldn’t even move, much less speak.   
I hated it. I wanted to kill something. And the second I woke up from this… not-dream, I called Nicholas. 

 

I believed him.


	3. A Whole New World

It was about 11:30 at night, and I was trying to fall asleep, when my phone began ringing. Who the fuck would be calling at this time? I picked up my iPhone, squinting at the bright light from the screen. Laura. This had better be pretty fucking important. I swiped the “answer” button and held the machine to my face.

“You do realize it’s almost midnight? What the fuck do you want?”

I heard soft gasping through the phone. I wasn't annoyed any more. Everyone worried about Laura, and I was no different. I didn't know this at the time, but she has been diagnosed with clinical depression. Even without the diagnosis, it was obvious she cut; all you had to do was look at her arms. I was worried she might be about to do more than just cut.

“What happened? What’s wrong? Laura, talk to me!” I said in my best ‘please don’t kill yourself’ voice.

“I… I believe you.”

“I don’t… Believe me about about what?” 

“Everything. The girl… the vision… everything.”

Before we go any further in the story, there are a few very important things to clarify. We are telling you about a parallel reality, in which many fictional stories from this world are real. If one looks up “Captain Nemo,” stories of his global treks and various acts of piracy are historical fact; recovered pieces from the Nautilus are on display in various museums.There are also some which are fictional there too, and some that they've simply never heard of over there. We have encountered, and no doubt will continue to encounter, many famous characters. For example, the Doctor shows up sometimes and Jack Harkness kind of works for us, Yuno and Yuuki from the Future Diaries are on our crew, we have regular dealings with Crowley, Castiel, the Winchesters and others from Supernatural, we tried to recruit Artemis Fowl a few times (still hopeful though). The list goes on and on.

One of the other most important things, expanding on that is, that the story is not always right. What I mean by that is that, while I’m certain that there is a reality out there in which the TV show is one hundred percent accurate, there are times when the published version of events in this world do not match up exactly with what really happened. Sherlock’s show is mostly accurate. One of the few errors is that while Mary Morstan was real, she and John never met. I say was real, WAS being the key word (that means she’s dead). But my show has a shit ton of errors. For example, there were one hundred thousand people trapped inside SAO, not the ten thousand specified in the anime. Also, they got me SO wrong! They make me look like some emo, loner loser, when in fact, before SAO, I was a flamboyant theater kid, with a promising future in opera and musical theater. Then Kyaba went and fucking ruined that. Actually, Asuna is also a singer, and a piano player. For a long time she wanted to become a piano teacher for little kids. 

Sherlock and I talked for hours that night.

“So do you think this world is nothing but a dream?” He asked.

“No. As I said before, two people can’t share the same dream. That same evidence with which we proved that world’s existence advocates this world’s existence as well. That means that this world does exist in some capacity,” I responded, speaking in my usual, unnecessarily eloquent manner. I felt very serene, I suppose I was relieved to find that I wasn't alone. Misery loves company, as they say, “But neither of us can move? Why do you suppose that is?”

“I hate that. John looks so sad,” Sherlock responded miserably.

“Oy, it’s not like I’m doing any better,” I snapped back. I glanced over there and saw Asuna breathing softly, slumped over in her chair at my bedside, her book still open in her lap. A strand of her beautiful orange hair had fallen into her face; I wanted nothing more than to gently tuck it back behind her ear.

“Anyway, it seems to me that we have a weak connection,” I theorized.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You ever used an old TV with rabbit ears?” I asked.

“Yeah… why?”

“Its like when you don’t quite have the antennas in the right position,” I explained, “We can see somewhat, but other functions are still fuzzy, like my hearing.”

“So we have to adjust the rabbit ears?”

“Exactly,” I answered, “I think we do that simply by focusing on that world. Try to feel your body there. I can experience the most when I’m staying perfectly still.”

“And you think that if we do this enough, we’ll get back?” Sherlock questioned.

“It is to be hoped.”

There was a long pause. Finally, Sherlock asked simply, “Do you think we’re just crazy?”

“I don’t know,” I said. I would come to hate those three words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your turn, Sherls.


	4. I Woke Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tear filled lovers reunion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kirito here! Since Sherlock doesn't have a computer at the moment, and I've already finished several more chapters, I've decided to go ahead and upload my next one. Hope you enjoy!

It took me almost a month before I first spoke to her. I kept trying to, but it wasn't until late one evening in mid October that she knew I was reaching out to her.   
It was a Saturday, and Asuna had been in my hospital room since early afternoon. She appeared to be doing school work for most of the day, alternating between a laptop, a binder of loose leaf paper, and a huge blue book which said 'Advanced Theoretical Physics Course Level 2' in large yellow letters on the cover. She finally fell asleep in the armchair at my bedside. She did this a lot. I always felt a bit bad when she spent the night in the hospital with me. ‘She must sleep so much better when she’s in her own bed,’ I’d think to myself. She was beautiful, even in this undignified position; she wore a simple white blouse, and blue jeans, and a light jacket. Her long red orange hair was loosely braided into one thick rope that hung over her shoulder. My god, I was in love. 

She had her hand lying palm up next to mine on the bed, and I finally decided enough was enough. I focused all of my willpower into my right hand, and with a herculean effort, I moved it just a few inches, and placed it on top of hers. She woke with a jolt, and tried to draw her hand away, but somehow, I managed to squeeze her hand in mine and hold on. She stared at our intertwined hands in shock. 

Then, using all of the concentration and willpower I could muster, I slowly turned my head toward her, and opened my eyes. She stared wide eyed, disbelieving, at me, as if I had been resurrected (which I guess I sort of was). We looked into each other’s eyes for what felt like hours. I was so happy; words cant begin to describe it. We didn't need to speak, but finally I decided to try. I opened my mouth a few times, trying to force words out. It took a few tries, but I finally did it.

My voice was rough and frighteningly weak, “A… Asuna?” I managed to rasp softly. She covered her mouth with her free hand to stifle a sob. She nodded as tears of joy began to spring forth from her eyes.

“I’m here,” she choked out softly, “I’m here, Kirito. I’m here...” She raised my hand to her face, to let me feel that she was real. I complied and gently cupped her cheek in my right hand.

“Asuna,” I said again, this time a bit louder. She squeezed my hand tightly.

“Yes,” She sobbed softly, “It’s me. I’m right here.”

After a long pause, I smiled as warmly as I could and said simply, “Hi.”

It was too much for her. She threw herself at me and hugged me tightly. She was sobbing shamelessly, and I began to cry too. I lifted my free arm and gently put it around her shaking shoulders. I was very weak, but I hugged her as tightly as I could. 

Even though I couldn't really feel her in my arms, I felt her love permeating my soul, and felt my frozen heart melt completely. In this life, I've always been a hateful person, and I never believed in love. I always assumed the worst in people and the world. I have always built walls to keep everyone out, and masked my pain with indifference and sarcasm. But that tender reunion changed everything for me. I felt my heart both break and swell at the same time. I felt that if I ever let go, my newly healed heart would once again shrivel up and die.

In a flash, a flood of memories came back to me. I saw our first meeting in the real world after ALO, and how I was with her all through rehab, and after she could walk again when we started dating, and how we had gone back to school together, and the first time I had dinner with her and her parents, and the time I went with her and her family on a road trip to visit her grandparents near Takayama, and when I had proposed to her on my 18th birthday. And I remembered about her too: how her favorite song was Dancing Cheek to Cheek, that winter was her favorite season because, just like me, she liked to curl up by a fire with hot cocoa and a good book, that she always wore lavender perfume because she knew I like the smell, that her favorite kind of ice cream is mint chocolate chip, she loved the sound of rain pattering on a window, how she had always wanted to become a piano teacher for little kids, and a million other things.

I hugged her as tightly as I could, and tried with all of my might to feel her. I felt like I got close, but even so, I was happy. I didn't know what the future would hold, but just for that moment, I was with her, and I was happy.


	5. An Immortal Encounter Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A close call with an urban accident reveals Kirito's true nature.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, Kirito here. Sherlock still doesn't have a computer, and I've been itching to get a reaction to this next chapter. Hope you enjoy, and please leave a comment!

My memories of my life in that world are somewhat incomplete. Every once in a while, new memories will resurface and fill some of the holes in my knowledge. For example, I recently remembered the first time that Asuna and I learned I was immortal.

It was around noon, in the middle of monsoon season. We were out walking down the street either on our way to or just leaving from lunch, I don’t remember exactly. It was raining, and most people had their umbrellas up. We didn't bother with umbrellas much though, since I almost always wore my waterproof oiled canvas duster, and Asuna knew that I would always give her my coat if the rain got too heavy. She would always say we should hold the coat over our heads and share it, but I always refused; I've never minded getting wet.

As the rain began to get heavier, I gave Asuna my old coat. I was soaked through almost instantly, but I didn't mind. My white shirt clung to my arms as it became transparent, and my waistcoat became a darker shade of brown as it was permeated with water. 

We were continuing down the street when the accident happened. It was a pretty standard, every day kind of accident; a woman accidentally walked in front of a bus. I was mid sentence when I saw the bus bearing down on the woman. Maybe the driver didn't see her because of the heavy rain, or maybe she was glued to her phone and didn't notice. Whatever the case, I found myself moving without thinking, and the next thing I knew, I was launching myself at the woman. 

She tumbled out of the way just in time. I, however, wasn't so lucky. Time seemed to slow down. I was stretched out in mid air, and I turned my head to look at the grill of the oncoming bus. I want to say that I thought something romantic, like ‘I’m sorry, Asuna,’ or something heroic, maybe, like ‘At least my sacrifice wasn't in vain,’ but in truth all I had time for was, ‘Fuck...’ 

And then pain. My god that hurt! Granted, the driver was trying to stop, so it was a bit less than it could have been, but even so, it really hurt. ‘Most of the ribs on my left side are probably broken,’ I thought, ‘maybe even my spine, definitely a ton of internal bleeding and organ damage.’ The impact hurled me into the rear windshield of the car in front of the bus. ‘Great, now everything on the other side’s broken.’ I rolled off of the back of the car, and fell heavily on the pavement. ‘I hope I don’t get run over too.’ I finally came to rest splayed out, face down on the crosswalk. 

I blacked out for a few minutes, so I don’t know exactly what happened after that, but according to Asuna, there happened to be a few police passing by at that moment, and they promptly stopped traffic. Also, Asuna tried to throttle the lady I had saved, and three of the police officers had to drag my dearly beloved off of the unfortunate woman. The driver got out of the bus, and saw my body, and wretched on the sidewalk. 

The next thing I remember was a police officer reaching into the pouch I keep on my belt, presumably to retrieve my ID from my wallet. I sat up and the poor man almost had a heart attack. 

“How are you…?” He stuttered.

“Alive? No idea,” I shrugged. I was just about to laugh when I saw Asuna on her knees in a puddle, crying. 

I went over to her and put my hand on her shoulder. “It’s OK...” I started soothingly. 

She reacted violently, tearing my hand off of her, and screamed at me.

“You fucking bastard!” She howled, “My boyfriend just died! And you’re telling me that it’s OK!?! It is absolutely not…” 

She stopped dead. I guessed her brain had finally registered who was standing in front of her.

“Kiri!” She exclaimed, “Oh my god, don’t ever do that to me again!”

“I’m sorry,” I apologized, hugging her tightly, “I don’t know what came over me.”

“I thought you were dead…” She buried her face in my shirt and cried.

“Uhh…” I turned my head, still holding Asuna tightly. It was the woman I had pushed out of the way. She was young, late twenties maybe, with high heels and a pencil skirt and secretarial looking glasses. Her hair was in a loose bun, which had been further disheveled by her fall. Her stockings were ripped on one knee and a bit of blood oozed out of the scrape. “I’m really… Uh… Thank you… I’m… I’m glad you’re not dead.”

“Are you hurt?” I asked the woman.

“No, I’m fine,” She said quickly, “But are you OK? Should I call an ambulance?”

“No,” I said calmly, “I’m fine, thank you. In future, try to pay more attention to where you’re going.”

“I… uh, I will,” she stood there awkwardly for a moment, then hurried off.

The bus driver was next. He was a man of about forty, with thinning brown hair and a drivers uniform that hung baggaley on his diminutive frame. He continued apologizing, even after I had said a million times that I wasn't angry at him.

After about an hour or so of paramedics examining and reexamining me, giving accounts to various police officers, and such, the scene was over, and the crowd of onlookers that had gathered dispersed. I stood with Asuna, holding her tightly with one arm, staring at the spot where I had landed. The heavy rain had already washed the blood away, but my clothes were covered in it. I looked like I had murdered someone. I was covered in… My own blood… I felt a bit sick. ‘I should be dead,’ I thought to myself simply, ‘I should be dead on that street right now. That driver should be under arrest for vehicular manslaughter. Asuna should be bawling her eyes out over my corpse right now… But I’m not dead… Why am I not dead?’

“Come on,” Asuna said, rousing me from my morbid wondering, "put this on." She handed me my coat, with which I concealed my bloody clothes.“Lets get back and get you cleaned up. You look terrible.”


	6. An Immortal Encounter Part 2

My house was empty when Asuna and I got there. Sugu was away at a kendo tournament in Oita, and my mom almost never got home before eleven, usually later.

I pulled my keys out of my waistcoat pocket and fumbled with the lock. I suddenly realized I had dropped them, but was still trying to get them into the keyhole. Asuna gave me a concerned look , then picked them up and opened the lock. 

“Hey,” she said to me, “you go take a bath, and I’ll make us some tea.”

“Darjeeling, please,” I responded weakly.

I went up stairs to my bedroom, and quickly stripped off my blood stained clothes. Standing in only my boxers, I checked myself in the full length mirror on my closet door. Not a scratch. I did a rudimentary check for motor function, popping my neck, swinging my arms around; everything seemed to be in place. I stuck my face very close to the mirror and inspected the scar on my right cheek from when Suguou had tried to kill me in the hospital. That was still there, but all of the other damage had mysteriously disappeared. 

A thought occurred to me. I opened one of my desk drawers and retrieved a pen knife. I stood for a moment, knife in hand, hesitating. I've always hated pain. Finally, I got over it and with a wince, I sliced my left palm open. My hand stung as blood oozed out and dripped onto the hardwood floor. ‘Well that was fucking stupid!’ I thought to myself, ‘What was I expecting would happen?’ I bumbled around for a minute, before grabbing a towel out of my dirty clothes basket and gripping it tightly in my left hand. The white material soaked up the blood and turned bright red. ‘Mom’s going to kill me.’

I rushed into the bathroom and let go of the towel. I turned the tap and ran cold water over the cut, not so much to clean it, but to relieve the stinging. I was inspecting the cut when something miraculous happened. I felt a pleasant warm tingling sensation replace the stinging pain in my hand. I looked down and stared in amazement as a gold-yellow light seeped out of the cut in my hand and quickly closed the cut.

“ASUNA!!!” I ran out of the bathroom and yelled over the railing, “You've got to see this!”

“What?” She rushed out of the kitchen, “Are you hurt?”

“No,” I said as she quickly mounted the stairs, “That’s what’s so amazing. Watch this!”

I grabbed the pen knife again and was about to cut my hand when Asuna stopped me, “Kiri! What the heck are you doing?!?”

“Don’t worry,” I reassured her, excitement in my voice, “Just look.”

Asuna closed her eyes as I again sliced my left palm. I held my hand over the sink as the blood dripped.

“Kirito!” She said, “I’ll get some bandages.”

“No,” I said, “Just a few more seconds.”

Then once again, the warm yellow light spilled out of the cut and sealed it up. Asuna stared in disbelief. She grabbed my hand and inspected it closely, feeling the palm where the cut had been only seconds before

“But how…?” she stuttered.

“I don’t know,” I said.

“I guess that's how you survived that bus earlier,” she commented quietly, dropping my hand.

“Asuna?” She had a far away look in her eye. I reached for her hand, but she quickly pulled it away. “Asuna, it’s still me. I’m still the same me.”

“Yeah,” she said, avoiding meeting my eyes, “Its just…”

“Asuna, look at me,” I said gently, “look into my eyes and tell me I’m not the same person.”

I took both of her hands in mine and allowed her to look deep into my eyes.

“See?” I said, “Still me.”

“What am I thinking?” She said, shaking her head. She gently pressed herself against me. I complied, wrapping my arms around her.

“I’m scared too,” I said, resting my chin on her head, “Will you stay with me tonight?”

“Umhum,” she responded sleepy and nodded slightly, “I’ll stay.

That night, I had a nightmare. No, nightmare doesn't begin to capture it; I had a night-terror. I dreamt that I was a soldier, though I couldn't tell what war. I was in a burnt out husk of a city, there was screaming and explosions and death everywhere. I could see a man fighting, and even though he and I looked nothing alike, I realized it was me. I saw myself just kept fighting and killing and I hated it. I was terrified.

Then, I heard a voice inside my head, “Remember all you have seen. Remember who you are. What you are.” Then I watched, as I unfolded a pair of brilliant white wings, and take off into the sky, leaving a burst of air in my wake. 

“Kiri!” I heard a far off voice call, “Kiri! Kiri, wake up!”

I bolted upright. Asuna was sitting next to me in my bed, wearing only a sheet. She looked at me with concern in her eyes. 

“You were screaming,” she said.

“I… I had the strangest dream,” I said. I lifted my hand to my throbbing head, and noticed something, “Asuna, could you turn on the light?”

She complied and turned on the lamp at my bedside. I let out a small yell of surprise. On my arm was a tattoo; and not just a little tattoo, it was huge! It stretched all the way up my arm. I checked and found more markings on my other arm.

“What the heck?” I wondered out loud.

“It goes all down your back,” she said, examining my body.

I got up quickly and twisted in front of the full length mirror, trying to get a good look at my back. There were a pair of stylized wings across my shoulder blades, and symbols and writing snaking down my back. The design looked somewhat familiar. I rushed over to my bookshelf and tore several volumes and random objects off before finding what I was looking for. I turned on the overhead light and placed the three tomes on my desk. 

“The Gate of Ptolemy, translation and commentary by Alphonse Elric, Transmutation; A Comprehensive Study by Edward Elric, and The Philosopher's Stone by Nicolas Flamel?” Asuna read, “Why do you have these? Since when were you into magic?”

I ignored the question and flipped to the symbols chart in Transmutation.

“Are any of these on my back?” I asked Asuna, then turned around expectantly.

“Well, its a bit hard to read,” she said. It was true. The book was covered in my own notes and scrawlings. “No… Wait, there's one. Ooh, and another, and there’s one more, and… This looks like it’s all alchemy. Except the wings.”

“You know,” I said thoughtfully, “I was just dreaming that I had wings…”

I trailed off. I closed my eyes and tried to feel my body. It was a meditation technique I’d used many times to ground myself. I tried to focus on my back, and suddenly, I felt two new body parts. Asuna screamed and fell back onto the bed. I opened my eyes to see her cowering on the sheets. I stepped toward her to comfort her, and heard a crash as the standing lamp next to my desk was knocked over. I looked behind me and saw two the white wings of a snowy owl, about four or five feet in length.

“Mary mother of god…” I muttered.

Asuna tentatively walked up to me, and gently touched one wing. It was a strange feeling. She gently stroked the snow white feathers; if I were a cat I would have been purring.

“They’re so soft,” she said quietly. She looked at me and asked, “Did you know about this?”

I shook my head. I moved them tentatively extending them and folding them up behind me. I tucked them in, and felt the same tingling as I had when my hand had been healed. I looked behind me and saw, to my only mild amazement (nothing would surprise me anymore that evening) that the wings were gone.

“That’s handy,” I commented. I tried to feel them again, and they opened gracefully.

“Wait,” Asuna frowned, “Does this mean you’re an angel?”

“I guess so,” I shrugged.

“Then does that mean you’re dead?” She went a bit pale, “What if you’re an angel because you died in that accident?”

“Am I dead? I don’t know. You tell me,” I pressed my lips against her and held them there for what felt like hours. She closed her eyes and draped her arms around my neck.

“No,” she said, after we had separated. She pressed her hand to my bare chest, feeling the warmth of my heartbeat. “You’re here all right.”

I flexed the wings, testing the range of motion. They were strong, powerful. I've never been a big guy, but I'm strong. These wings were just as well conditioned as the rest of my body, strong and agile.

“I want to try them,” I said to Asuna.

“Maybe pants first?’ She joked.

“Nah! Pants are overrated!” I responded, “I shall not let social conventions bring me down!” I was interrupted by a pair of trousers being thrown over my head.

I dressed quickly, and went outside. It was a crisp, cool evening, and the lights of Tokyo shone as brightly as ever. I had only my trousers and boots on as I walked to the center of the back yard. Asuna stood on the porch, watching. 

I unfurled my wings once more, and with one powerful downward thrust, I launched myself into the night. I was tentative at first, faltering and nearly crashing several times, but I quickly got the hang of it. It seemed instinctual. It was amazing. I whooped with delight as I turned and reeled in the sky. I swooped down close to the ground and pulled up at the last second.

I decided to see just how high I could go. I pumped my wings downward and shot up. I sped ever higher, above the tops of the skyscrapers, and then even above the clouds. The buildings below grew tiny, and threatened to disappear altogether. The crescent moon seemed enormous. I then stopped, and let myself fall backwards. I free fell for ages, savoring the experience. I felt a serene joy as the wind whistled past my ears, and I plummeted head first back toward the earth. I knew exactly what to do, as if I had done this a million times. Right at the last moment, I opened my wings wide and sped across the rooftops.

I saw Asuna standing in the middle of the yard, staring skyward trying to find me. I swooped in behind her and scooped her up in my arms. She screamed as we sped upward, I was laughing all the while. I slowed just above 500 feet and drifted, flapping my wings lazily. Asuna clung to me for dear life, though she knew I’d never let her go.

“What a view!” I said to her. She looked out for the first time, seeing the sprawling mass of Tokyo laid out beneath us.

“I’m sorry. Should we go back down?” I asked.

She shook her head, “This is wonderful.”

I changed my grip so we were facing each other. She closed her eyes, and rested her head on my chest. I propped my chin on her head and looked at her. Her long hair blew out behind her in the wind. Her face was lit by the silver glow of the moon.

‘Things are still the same,’ I thought happily. Maybe things had changed a bit, but I was still with Asuna, and that was what mattered.


	7. Shezza And J-Watts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically backstory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ummm...yeah.  
> Be afraid, be very afraid.

I realised I should probably give some backstory on myself. My name is William Sherlock Scott Holmes. I am twenty-seven years old, a detective, and a flaming homosexual, have been since high school (Kazuto said he imagined my hair on fire). James “Jim” Moriarty was my first boyfriend, and Mycroft was my first kiss (REGRET, SO MUCH REGRET). As you can imagine, dating Jim was a bad idea. While I got off on smoking and murder mysteries, Jim got off on torturing our fellow peers, and drugs. As a result, at the age of seventeen, I got addicted to heroin. Mycroft forced me into rehab at age twenty-one, and then I graduated college/uni. In all honesty, I never would have met Lestrade if I hadn’t been high off my arse in a back alleyway while he was on patrol once. While at the station for questioning, I solved three cold cases, and saved a man from getting the Chair. After that, Geoffrey...Graham...GREG let me stay on for cases, provided I got clean. After that, I was allowed to stay on as The World’s Only Consulting Detective.  
Before John, I had several roommates. None of whom could put up with my… me. Annoying, I know. John was the only one who was interested enough to put up with my shit.  
As it was, John clung stubbornly to his heterosexuality, even once we started dating. I can remember the conversation:  
John: Before I say anything else, I’m not gay.  
Me: Of course.  
John: Would you like to go out?  
Me: For dinner?  
John: And possibly more.  
Ever since then, John and I have been together. We’ve been engaged for about a year, and have an adopted son named, of course, Hamish Watson-Holmes. The three of us live comfortably in a flat in Tokyo. We switched back and forth from London to Tokyo for a while before settling and homeschooling Hamish.  
Other than the fact that I, too am an angel, there’s really not much else to tell.

Back to the story at hand:  
I woke up in my house…  
Not sure how that happened. But anyway!  
This is about the first time I realised that there was a Johnlock. For those of you who don’t know, this is the Urban Dictionary definition: Johnlock is the father of all the gay ships. It's probably the first thing you ever shipped in your life. Johnlock is flawless.  
(Let the record show, while I’m writing this, Kazuto is running about with a lampshade on his head, singing about Alabama alibis.)  
As I was saying. I woke up in my house, on the sofa, extremely drowsy, and highly confused. The confusion only multiplied when I realised I was alone. The questions wouldn’t stop flowing: why was I here? How did I get here? Why wasn’t I on life support? Was I alright? What the actual fuck was going on?  
“Sherlock?”  
I looked up at John. He seemed shocked that I was awake.  
“Why am I here?” Looking back, it seems like sort of a dick move to not even say hi, or to see if he was alright. Naturally, he was used to me asking the wrong questions at the wrong times. so he laughed.  
“I requested you were moved. I felt safer if you were close. Sorry.” He shrugged.  
“No… It’s fine. I prefer it.” I attempted to sit up.  
“Hold on.” John grabbed my shoulders, and helped me to sit up.  
“Thanks.”  
We sat in silence for about five minutes. It started like one of those bad scenes in a romantic comedy: I slid a little farther from him, he slid closer. I slid farther, he slid closer. Finally, I was backed into a corner, both literally and figuratively. I was curled into the arm of the sofa, legs tucked up to my chest. John smiled and placed a hand on my knee, he slowly leaned in.  
If you’ve ever had that one special first kiss, with someone you truly adore, you’ll know how I felt. The butterflies in my stomach were squids. My eyes were open as wide as they could go, and my entire body was tense.  
“Sherlock?”  
I hadn’t realised I had pulled away.  
“Yeah?”  
“Are you okay?”  
"Yeah.”  
“You’re sure?”  
“Yeah.”  
John stared at me for a moment before it dawned on him. “You forgot, didn’t you?”  
Embarrassed, I turned away and nodded. “I’m sorry.”  
“No…” John pulled me into a hug. “It’s fine.”  
“It’s not, though.” I hung my head. “I’m really so, so sorry.”  
“I know how you can make it up to me…”  
Taking my hand, he led me to the bedroom. I probably should have taken the hint much better than I did, either way we ended up in bed. I would describe it, but I’d rather not.


	8. I'm Going Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One sentence, said in the heat of the moment, that's kept me going for all this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long since my last post. This has actually been done for a while, but I didn't bother to upload it because I thought no one was interested. Please leave comments, so I know you like it, and it's worth it to continue writing.  
> -Kazuto

As winter begins to roll around for a second time, my thoughts begin to stray back to last winter, and to something Sherlock once told me. One simple sentence, said in the panic of the moment, has kept me going for all this time. “Before the last snows of winter melt, you will be back in this world.” I can’t say that I recall exactly when this happened, some time between Thanksgiving and Christmas, I think. Sherlock had excitedly told me that he could see in that world, and I began to analyze like a madman, searching for every possible variable that might have caused him to wake up.  
“There’s got to be something!” I said animatedly to Asuna one cold evening.

“Well what’s different?” She asked, gazing out the window of my hospital room, “What did he change?”

“I told you, nothing truly apparent,” I said, flopping back on the hospital bed. I had been regaining my strength remarkably quickly, and with the help of a cane and Asuna’s support I could --kind of-- walk.

“Well there has to be something,” she said, frowning.

“That’s what I’m saying!”

“Ok, let’s go over Sherlock’s story one more time,” She said, standing up.

“There wasn't much that was actually useful,” I complained, “Mostly, he tried to tell me about what he and John did afterwards.” 

We both gave each other an ‘Eww…’ look, then burst into laughter. I had missed those simple moments, laughing together, pondering together, just being together at all.

“Why don’t you ask him?” She suggested.

“His mom took his phone,” I replied. That happened a lot.

We both thought in silence for a while. I swung my feet over the side of the bed, and Asuna helped me to the window. I stared out at Tokyo. I knew this view well, I was in the same hospital Asuna had been in during the SAO Incident. I think it might have even been the same floor. She and I stood together for a time. I slipped my arm around her waist, she looked at me and smiled, before pressing herself against me gently. I caught the scent of her lavender perfume. 

My thoughts began to wander, away from Sherlock, and other worlds, and back into my memory. I wondered what this view might mean to her, she had spent months with this view during rehab. And indeed, I recalled my own memories of the stretch of city before us, I had visited her almost every day, during and after the whole mess in Alfheim Online; I had stared out of a window close by for hours. (I also hurled Sugou to his death out of said window, but that’s a story for another time.) I couldn't quite decide how I felt about the view, but it was good. Overall, it was good feelings. 

“OH!” Asuna spun her head suddenly to look me in the eye, “The house!”

“Huh?” I said, raising one eyebrow.

“The house!” She said again, with an energy I hadn’t seen since I had woken up, “He was in his house when he woke up! What if the familiar surroundings did… something?”

“It’s worth a try,” I said, not convinced, but liking the idea (largely because of who said it).

“I’ll call a car!” She said excitedly.

“I think that might not be necessary…” I trailed off as a jet black Hearse came to a screeching halt in the parking lot below. Sherlock got out of the drivers side door and waved excitedly up at me. “Oh boy…”

I’m not sure how many of my audience have seen Harold and Maude (if not, I highly recommend it, it’s wonderful), but for those who have, let’s just say that I think Sherlock must have taught Maude how to drive. I sat in the seat at the back of his modified Hearse, my fingernails digging into the black leather upholstery. I can’t begin to describe how horrific Sherlock's driving is. There were several times I really thought we were all going to die. For him, the green light means go, the yellow light also means go, and the red light means go even faster. I will admit I screamed a few times. Asuna sat next to me relatively calmly and reassured me a few times that it was going to be fine. I can only assume she was used to this by now.

“Hey,” Sherlock called back, turning himself around to face backwards, letting go of the wheel and driving only with his knees, “We’re not dead yet, are we?”  
“BUS!!!” I screamed as we careened headlong straight at an oncoming tourist coach. We swerved and barely missed it, instead smashing through a thankfully empty bus stop, before continuing on.

We arrived at the house about ten minutes later. Miraculously, no one had been killed. I clawed my way out of that car faster than you’d imagine possible, especially from a man who really couldn't walk. I collapsed on the ground, hyperventilating. 

“Thank you for choosing Holmes Airlines,” Sherlock said, standing next to me, “We hope you enjoyed your flight and… Oof!”

The wind was knocked out of him as I yanked his foot out from under him.

I tried to stand, but fell back down heavily. Crack! 

“Oh shit…” I groaned.

“What?” John asked as he came around the car.

“I think something broke,” I said, rolling onto my back, “Ooh! Ow… That’s a rib. That’s definitely a rib.” 

John rushed over and felt my stomach, “Yep, floating rib. Probably fractured. I've got to set it. Let’s get him inside.”

“No, I’m fine,” I said, levering myself up, then winced with the pain as I collapsed back down, hitting the rib again.

Asuna rushed to my side and Sherlock helped her get me up. In a chaotic jumble, I was rushed into the house. For some reason, Andrew (AKA Agil) and Rika (AKA Lizbeth) were there, they were yelling and asking what happened. I was being carried up the stairs, when I turned to Sherlock and asked simply, “Tell me the truth, do I make it back?”  
“Before the last snows of winter melt,” he looked me in the eye, “You will be back in this world.”

For those who don’t remember, Sherlock goes back two years before me, meaning that the Sherlock I interact with in that world has already been back for two years. He already knows everything that’s going to happen, because he’s already lived it all. Because of the laws of Timey Wimey, he can’t tell me much about what will happen, but sometimes he’ll drop little hints, to which I will cling like a drowning rat. 

I was rushed into the room on the left of the landing, and to my bewilderment found myself in an exact recreation of my old bedroom. The boring grey Stalinesque interior design was exactly the same as the room I grew up in; even my Nerve Gear helmet was sitting on the shelf with the SAO disk propped against it, exactly where I left it. The only difference was the bed, which was a queen sized, instead of the single I was used to.

I was laid down on the the bed, and John started working. He opened my dressing gown shirt and began calling for people I had never heard of. Jared, Aaron, Sarah, Parker and others. People began coming in and out, bringing bandages and such. Finally, John called Asuna over. 

“Asuna,” he said, “It’s all set. Now we just need a shot of anima.”

“Right,” she said quickly.

“Wait,” I said, worried, “A shot? What’s anima?”

“Don’t worry,” Asuna said, moving to my side, “It actually feels nice.”

I was about to protest further, but she laid her hands gently on my exposed stomach and closed her eyes. Conversely, my eyes opened wide with amazement as a soft golden light radiated from her hands. A pleasant warm feeling replaced the sharp pain from my rib. The light faded and Asuna took her hands away. For once, I was dumbfounded. I couldn't find anything to say.

John checked my stomach again, and said, “Try sitting up.”

I dumbly obeyed. No pain. I patted my stomach frantically. Completely healed.

“Any pain?” John asked.

I shook my head and managed a short “No.”

People began filing out, until it was just Asuna and I. She sat down on the bed next to me and quietly began undressing. I looked around the room once more, and this time, I saw a bit more. A laptop on the desk, papers spread around, pictures of me and Asuna. I realized that this was where Asuna lived. She walked over to the closet door, and tossed her clothes in the hamper. She walked over to the door and flicked the light switch. Pale moonlight filled the room.

“Are you feeling better?” Asuna asked me. She sat down on the bed next to me.

“What…” I started quietly, “What was that?”

“I healed you,” She said simply.

“Wait… You mean… Like magic?”

“Yeah,” She looked at me and saw I wasn't joking, “You don’t remember, do you?”

“Well... yeah… no... I don’t.”

“Yes, I can do magic. So can you.”

“Magic…” I said out loud.

“You can’t do magic in that world, can you?”

I shook my head, “Magic doesn't exist there. It’s just fantasy.”

“Huh…” She trailed off. I felt a heavy comforter pulled over me, then soft skin pressing against mine. Slender arms wrapped around my chest and squeezed gently.  
“I love you,” I said softly.

“Humm…” She murmured contentedly, “Me too.”

I smiled as the heat from our bodies combined under the blanket to ward off the winter chill.


	9. Future and Future Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baker Street Tokyo receives some unexpected, and not very friendly visitors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Sherlock hasn't posted his chapter yet, but I just couldn't wait any longer to post this. I get to add a new fandom to the tags! YAY!

I almost wanted to title this chapter “When Fandoms Collide” but I chose this name in honor of our guest stars. As I have mentioned before, many anime, TV shows, books and other stories in this world are real in that world. After a while, I started having a sense of what stories fit in with that world, and which don’t. For example, the events of Fullmetal Alchemist seem to fit better in my world than say, One Piece, and I've always suspected that the Future Diaries competition was a thing in that world, while the weirdness of Gintama is probably just fiction.

Since I've been able to watch a show all the way through over here, I often have an advantage over people in that world, since I know all of their deepest darkest secrets, and I also know how their lives are going to play out. A common scene in my life is this; I will tell someone something I have no possible way of knowing, and they will stutter, “How do you know that?” To which I will respond, “I know a lot of things I really shouldn't.” Because of this ability to know the unknowable, people often think I’m on the same level as Sherlock, in terms of deduction, even though I’m really not even close.

The major problem with this foreknowledge is the fact that I’m never in the story. What I mean by this is that if I do almost anything to change the course of events, or tell someone what will happen, the story line changes, and can shoot off in a completely different direction. Suddenly, I know no more than anyone else, and I loose my advantage. There is also the distinct possibility that in trying to prevent a tragedy portrayed in cannon, I accidentally cause an even greater disaster. How much to get involved is always a calculated risk.

But the rules change when they come to you. If the characters from a certain story gets you involved, then you don’t really have a choice. So it was with this story.

It was early January, and the snows from December had caked and frozen into a treacherous sludge of grey shards. It was late afternoon when I had a feeling that danger was on it’s way. Asuna was away at work, Sherlock was god knows where, and John was out running errands. I stood and quietly padded on bare feet into the walk in closet. Two floor to ceiling cabinets stood side by side inside the closet, labeled “His” and “Hers.” I opened the one on the left to reveal my arsenal and equipment. I scanned the panel of pistols, grenade satchels, throwing knives, and other such fun toys. I selected a hybrid battle axe and blunderbuss, a gift from Sherlock to apologize for destroying my fez.

I quickly slipped a loose, billowing pirate-esque cotton shirt with laces instead of buttons over my head, high waited Victorian style trousers with braces (suspenders for Americans), knee high black renaissance style boots, and slipped my arms into a bulletproof, but still quite stylish dark grey waistcoat. Finally, I placed a protective amulet, in the shape of a small brass compass around my neck, put a magically charged emerald ring on my finger, and put my hidden blade arm braces on. I paused to admire my handiwork in the mirror; I looked like I had stepped straight out of Captain Harlock, or Last Exile.

With axe in hand, headed down stairs. I had just reached the main entrance when the door was kicked down, and a smoke bomb went off.

“Oh for Christ’s sake,” I called, coughing, and waving my hand in front of my face, “It was unlocked! Did you even try the handle? You didn't have to destroy the fucking door!”

Straining to see through the thick grey smoke, I barely managed to discern the shape of a katana bearing down on me. I dodged to the left, then swung with the axe. I saw a flash of pink hair as the figure jumped back to avoid the blade bearing down on it. Wait a sec, is that… No, it couldn't be. They don’t attack me in the show.  
I felt something behind me, and ducked just in time for a dart to sail over my head and plant itself in the wall beside me. A throwing dart? What the fuck? Another figure came at me from behind with what appeared to be a diver’s knife. He got a good stab at my side, but the bulletproof vest protected me. I countered with the hidden blade, but was blocked by the katana.

I continued to trade blows with the figures, still obscured in smoke. I started to notice patterns. The one with the sword was my primary opponent, and the one with the knife would try to distract me or wait until he saw an opening, then try to quickly stab me, before quickly retreating again. The one with the sword was very good, but the knife wielder was significantly less experienced, and when I went after him, the swordsman would quickly intervene.

I was grappling with the knife wielder, my hidden blade aimed at his throat, both his hands on my wrist, trying to push my hand away, when the swordsman, not wanting to stab at me for fear of hitting his comrade, tackled me, and all three of us burst through the door into the living room. I did a back flip over the sofa, to get something between us.  
For the first time, I got a good look at my attackers. A slender teenage girl, wearing blue jeans, and green blouse, torn and tinged red on the arm where my hidden blade had grazed her, with long pink pigtails, and the eyes of a crazed, murderous lunatic. I knew her instantly, and for the first time since I got back, I felt a shock of fear and panic in my heart.

“Holy shit,” I breathed, wide eyed, “Yuno Gasai.”

Part of me wanted to smash through the window, and fly away as fast as I could. Another part of me wanted to curl up in a ball and cry, and one more part of me wanted more than anything to kill her, and protect my family.

I might have stood there in shock until the end of time, but a throwing dart embedded itself in my hand. The pain shocked me back to reality. I yanked the dart out of my hand and hurled it back at the boy standing slightly behind Yuno, Yukiteru Amano. The girl blocked the dart with her sword, and was about to launch herself at me but I raised the stock of the gun to my shoulder, and shot Yuno in the leg. She shrieked in pain, and started limping toward me, her eyes filled with more hate than you can imagine. I panicked. I used the ring to blast the sofa into the air. It smashed into a cabinet filled with china, which came crashing down on top of her, pinning her to the ground. I cringed a bit as dagger sharp shards of plates and crockery shredded Yuno’s clothes and skin and stabbed themselves into her back. That’s got to hurt. The sofa careened off the wall and into the dining table, crushing it into a flaming mess. Yuki stood for a moment, uncertain, then with a scream, just as frightened as enraged, launched himself at me, holding the knife out in front of him with both hands.

“Yuki, don’t!” Yuno yelled, panic in her voice, “He’s too powerful!”

He either didn't hear or ignored her, because he continued charging me. It was a pitiful attack, but I commend his bravery. I sidestepped easily, knocked the knife out of his hand, twisted his arm behind his back, and pressed my hidden blade to his throat. It was over.

Yuki squirmed in my iron grip while Yuno glared up at me, struggling under the heavy oak cabinet, murder in her eyes. I was about to speak when I heard a motorcycle drive up outside. Everyone’s heads turned toward the door.

Two bags of groceries hit the floor. Asuna stood in the doorway, surveying the trashed furniture and general destruction. All the color drained from Asuna’s face. _Oh shit…_ I thought. Everything was frozen for what felt like hours.

“WHAT THE HELL IS THIS!?!”


	10. Future and Future Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It seems Sherlock has mostly given up on this, so I guess I'll just post my next chapter. Hope you like it!

The next few hours were weird. I mean really weird, even for me. To pick up where we left off:

“WHAT THE HELL IS THIS!?!” Asuna was livid with fury. “I leave you alone for an hour, one fucking hour, and when I get home, the front door is kicked in, the foyer is in ruins, there are throwing darts in the walls, the sofa’s on fire, all of the china has been smashed, and there's a teenage girl bleeding all over the hardwood floor! AND MY KITCHEN!!!!”

I looked over at the kitchen with the flaming sofa in the middle of it, and realized just how much damage had been done

“Well it’s not my fault!” I responded defensively, still holding my hidden blade to Yuki’s throat, “They attacked me!”

“Oh, they started it?” She retorted sarcastically, bracing herself against the china cabinet to move it off of Yuno, “That’s the excuse you’re going with?”

“No! Asuna, don’t!” I yelled. It was too late, Asuna gave a heave, and the wrecked remains of the cabinet rolled off of the girl. Yuno sprang at Asuna, reaching for her sword while she did so, but stopped short when a gun was pressed into her forehead. Asuna smiled sweetly. 

“Now,” she said calmly, “I’d rather not kill you. So here’s what we’re going to do; I’m going to heal you, and then we’re all going sit down, I’ll make some tea, and we are going to talk like civilized people.”

“Go to hell, you whore,” Yuno spat. I clenched my fists, and unintentionally pressing my blade against Yuki’s throat, drew a drop of blood and a whimper from the boy. Asuna, sensing my rage, put her hand up in my direction, indicating I should wait.

“Ok,” Asuna continued pleasantly, “but before you decide, you should know your other option: I shoot you, and my boyfriend over there slits the kid’s throat.”

“Yuno,” Yuki spoke for the first time, a half sobbed entreaty to his stalker, “Let’s just talk to them! Please, be reasonable!”

“One of them has a diary,” Yuno hissed, “They’re just trying to trick us so they can kill us later!”

Asuna and I exchanged glances, both of us silently asking the other, ‘What the fuck is she talking about?’

“If they were going to kill us, they’d have already done it!” Yuki said with as much force as he could muster, “She’s got a gun against your head, but she hasn’t shot you!”

“He’s right, Yuno,” I said calmly, as I deliberately released the boy, “you should really listen to the man you love. Or is it that you don’t love Yuki any more?”

“Of course I love him!” She yelled.

“Well, you did blow up half of a school for him. Or has that not happened yet?”

“How do you know that?” Yuki asked, taking a few steps away from me.

“I know a lot of things I really shouldn’t, First.” I cooed, using Deus’s title for him. I walked over to Yuno, still being held at gunpoint, and began taking her shirt off of her.

“What the hell’s wrong with you?!?” Yuno yelled.

“What are you doing?” Yuki asked furiously.

“I can’t heal your back if your shirt is still on,” I explained, as if to a small child, “I’m not being a perv, I’m making good on our word.”

“Well at least let me do it!” Yuno insisted.

Grudgingly, she unbuttoned her blouse, and removed it. She folded her arms over her chest, embarrassed. I wasn't paying much attention to her front though, her back was worse than I had thought. I unclasped the back of her bra, and moved the straps out of the way. Her face had gone beat red, but I didn't care. I gingerly placed my hands on the bloodied pulp of her back. She yelped a bit with pain.

“This will hurt for a moment, as the shards are taken out, but it will feel much better after,” I told Yuno. I turned my head to Yuki, “I apologize in advanced. Here I go.”

I closed my eyes and focused on the broken bits of glass, wood, and porcelain in the girl’s back. I decided to do it as quickly as I could. ‘Sorry,’ I thought with a grimace. With one swift motion, I pulled my hands away from the girl, taking the shards along with it. Yuno’s back arched with pain as she shrieked in agony, barely holding back tears. It was a necessary step in a healing, the body couldn't properly repair itself if there were foreign objects inside, but it was always painful. I released my magical hold on the shards, and they clattered to the ground. I gently placed my hands, now dripping with crimson liquid, back on her, and focused on the damage done. I willed the magical energy forward, and a beautiful golden light poured out across her back. It flowed along the surface, filling cuts and scrapes, and quickly repairing them, before moving on to the next section. In a matter of moments, Yuno’s skin had been sewn back together, and the golden light faded.

I stood up and walked over to the sink to wash the blood off my hands. Yuki approached Yuno, and draped his jacket around her protectively. ‘I wonder how far along in the story we are,” I thought to myself, ‘Yuki seems to be having genuine feelings for Yuno, but he’s also still terrified of her.’

“Nicolas? Nicolas?” I snapped upright, Mr. Morison, the chemistry teacher, was glaring at me, “If my teaching bores you so much, I could send you to have a talk with the dean instead.”

“Sorry sir,” I said, bowing my head a bit, “I just haven't gotten much sleep lately. You know, the play and all.”

“Oh, yes, you and your precious play,” he said with contempt, “Now, would you care to tell me what the proper catalyst would be in this reaction?”

“Uhm, would that be hydrochloric acid?”

“No. If you added that, you would release a toxic gas into the air that would kill you in seconds. Try to pay more attention. No, as I said before the only catalyst in such a reaction...”

After class, my friend Luis came up to me.

“Dude,” he joked, “you were dead in there! Whats up?”  
“I've already told you, though you didn't care to listen,” I said coldly, then, shouldering my heavy pack, walked briskly away. A rift had grown between me and my once closest friend Luis. I had tried to tell him about my discovery of that world, but he responded with “Are you satisfied with your life?” and “Should I be worried about you?” and other such bullshit. Luis had always been one of those people who believed in “the infinite possibility of the universe,” as he put it some time. It seems, though that he only believed in the possibility, but when confronted with the reality, he refused to believe it. He also showed me another side of him, revealing that he was a racist pig, believing that all Asian art, culture, and people were represented in Japanese whaling practices, and the Rape of Nanking, and that all Asian people were personally responsible, even the Chinese, who were clearly the victims in WWII. He also said that all people who like anime are sad, pathetic losers who can’t do anything with their lives, and that they’re so pathetic that they can’t find a girlfriend, so they fall in love with “cartoons” and all they do is sit in a darkened basement and jerk off to hentai all day. After this, I cut him off. 

The rest of the day, I tried again and again to go back to that world, but things here kept on dragging me back. I briefly found myself being dragged up the stairs by my feet, my head hitting each step as I went. ‘I bet that’s Sherlock,’ I thought to myself, ‘That bastard.’ It wasn't until that evening that I could really go back and find out what was happening.

**Author's Note:**

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